


annatar, but eldritch.

by silvergifting



Category: The Silmarillion, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Silverfisting, silvergifting, this smut isn’t All That Graphic but heed the tags anyways thank you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 12:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19869394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergifting/pseuds/silvergifting
Summary: here are a couple half-finished fic prompts for annatar being his utterly horrifying self! ft tyelpë Kinda Not Enjoying It. (this probably makes zero sense but i wrote this at four am and it’s been sitting in my drafts for like five months. i have no excuse whatsoever.)





	annatar, but eldritch.

annatar’s power is indescribably nauseating, rippling in waves as ones washing upon a shore.  
when annatar grasps tyelpë’s locks, or his tunic, with too much force for it to be entirely natural or in a manner that could be described as peaceful, tyelpë feels a sickening wave of pussiance wash over him, one that evokes a feeling of absolute terror and utter helplessness.

and when tyelpë gasps for breath, fingers digging impossibly tightly into the fine silken sheets, searching for, but not finding purchase. his vision blurs with the intensity of his orgasm, and annatar’s eyes flash a sickening crimson. for a moment tyelpë wonders if he has not simply imagined it. 

the bruises on his throat match annatar’s hand, even marked with the same shapes of the rings that bejewel his slender fingers. the strange metals that adorn the rings sting when annatar touches him, and tyelpë’s blood is set alight with the mixture of pain and arousal that he knows all too well. 

when annatar, (strangely enough), leans into tyelpë’s neck, his skin, mottled with rich purple bruises, is heated, to the point that tyelpë recoils sharply. but annatar holds him there, murmuring about tyelpë being too sensitive, and tyelpë simply stays, letting annatar’s fingertips wander across the broken skin of his lips, and he simply wonders why.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m on twitter @silverfisting & tumblr if you ever want to chat or send prompts. :^)


End file.
